PS 

3537 

T859 

D8 

1918 


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A 

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2  ; 

3  I 
3  I 
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LJMS    OF    OUDE 

A  Drama  in  One  Act 


By  AUSTIN    STRONG^'^ereity  of  California 

^"^         IRVINE  ^ 


SAMUEL  FRENCH 

Incorporated  1898 

T.  R.  EDWARDS,  Managing  Director 
25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  Ltd. 
26  Southampton  St.,  Strand,  London 

PRICE  50  GENTS 


• 


DRUMS    OF    OUDE 

A  Drama  in  One  Act 
By  AUSTIN   STRON 


LIBRARY 

of  California 
IRVINE 


SAMUEL  FRENCH 

Incorporated  1898 

T.  R.  EDWARDS,  Managing  Director 
25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 

SAMUEL  FRENCH.  Ltd. 
26  Southampton  St.,  Strand.  London 

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DRUMS    OF    OUDE 

A  DRAMA  IN  ONE  ACT 


BY 
AUSTIN  STRONG 


COPYRIGHT,  1918,  BY  AUSTIN  STRONG 


All  Rights  Reserved 

CAUTION:  Professionals  and  amateurs  are  hereby  warned  that 
"DRUMS  OF  OUDE,"  being  fully  protected  under  the  copyright 
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sional  and  amateur  acting  rights  must  be  made  to  Samuel  French, 
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Drums  of  Oude 

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"DRUMS  OF  OUDE"  is  fully  protected  by  copyright  in  the 
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In  its  present  form  this  play  is  dedicated  to  the  reading  public 
only,  and  no  performance,  representation,  production,  recitation, 
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It  may  be  presented  by  amateurs  upon  payment  of  a  royalty 
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one  week  before  the  date  when  the  play  is  given. 

Professional  rates  quoted  on  application. 

Whenever  the  play  is  produced  the  following  notice  must  ap 
pear  on  all  programs,  printing  and  advertising  for  the  play: 
"Produced  by  special  arrangement  with  Samuel  French  of  New 
York." 


Printed   in   the    United    States   of  America   by 

J.    J.    LITTLE    AND    IVES     COMPANY,    NEW    YORK 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

BY 

AUSTIN  STRONG 


Dedicated  to  my  wife— Mary  Strom? 

A.  S. 


CHARACTERS 

CAPTAIN  HECTOR  MCGREGOR 

LIEUTENANT  ALAN  HARTLEY 

SERGEANT  McDouGAL 

STEWART,  the  sentry 

Two  HINDUSTANI  SERVANTS 

MRS.  JACK  CLAYTON,  Hartley's  sister 

A  PRIVATE 

SCENE:    An  interior  of  a  palace  in  Northern  India,  occupied 
by  British  troops. 

TIME  :  Spring  of  1857. 


The  Drums  of  Ottde  is  copyright,  1918,  by;  Austin  Strong.  All  acting  rights, 
both  professional  and  amateur,  are  reserved  in  the  United  States,  Great  Britain, 
and  all  countries  of  the  copyright  union,  by  the  owner.  Application  for  the 
right  of  performing  this  play  or  reading  it  in  public  should  be  made  to  Samuel 
French,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City. 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

Music  before  curtain  rises  to  be  of  that  mysterious,  nervous 
Indian  quality,  in  a  minor  key,  with  the  barbaric  drum-beat 
measure  throughout. 

All  lights  out.  Theater  in  total  darkness.  Drumming  is  heard 
from  beyond  the  stage,  mingled  with  faint  cries.  This  drum 
ming  must  be  great  in  volume,  yet  low  in  key.  It  stops  short. 

Repeats  itself  and  again  stops  short.  The  curtain  has  gone  up 
in  the  darkness.  The  audience  first  becomes  aware  of  the 
moonlit  Indian  City,  in  the  distance,  over  the  top  of  an  in 
tervening  forest. 

Then  they  see  the  outline  of  the  archway  and  the  stage  itself, 
which  is  a  store-room  in  an  old  Indian  Palace,  now  occupied 
by  the  British.  There  is  no  furniture  in  the  room  except  a 
piano,  R.,  and  a  business  desk,  R.,  rear.  A  large  Indian 
carpet  is  upon  the  floor.  The  only  decorations  are  two 
crossed  swords  on  either  side  of  the  arch. 

Sentry  STEWART,  in  Highland  uniform,  passes  beyond  the 
arch,  in  the  moonlight,  from  R.  to  L.  Pause.  He  returns. 
Pause.  Then  again  from  R.  to  L.  The  drumming  swells  in 
the  distance  and  seems  to  come  from  the  Indian  City.  As  the 
SENTRY  appears  on  his  return  beat,  the  drumming  ceases. 
He  halts  center  of  archway  and  turns  a  puzzled  face  towards 
the  audience  and  listens  intently.  Dead  silence. 

He  is  seen  to  breathe  a  sigh  of  relief,  straighten  himself  and 
continue  his  stolid  march.  Silence. 

Then  with  a  crash  door  L.  bursts  open  and  MCGREGOR  slides  in. 
He  shuts  the  door  softly  and  swiftly  and  listens  intently  with 
his  ear  to  the  panels.  He  gives  a  glance  at  the  open  arch, 

5 


6  THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

then  takes  three  steps  center,  stoops,  takes  hold  of  the  corner 
of  carpet  and  flings  it  back.  Rises,  goes  back  to  door  L. 
and  listens  at  panels  again.  Then  returns  center  and  opens 
a  trap-door  which  was  beneath  the  carpet.  The  trap-door  is 
three  feet  square  and  eight  inches  thick. 

He  looks  carefully  in  and  then  closing  it  returns  the  carpet  to 
its  place,  stands  on  it,  and  listens  intently,  his  eyes  to  the 
audience.  He  then  draws  from  his  left-hand  coat  pocket  a 
large  leather  cigar  case.  Chooses  a  cigar  and  returns  case. 
He  then  slowly  backs  to  wall  R.  When  he  reaches  it  he 
strikes  a  match  upon  it  with  a  downward  sweep  of  his  hand. 
He  lights  cigar  and  carefully  putting  out  the  match,  he  as~ 
sumes  a  graceful,  easy  position,  his  back  against  the  wall,  his 
hands  rammed  deep  in  his  coat  pockets  and  his  right  foot 
crossed  over  his  left,  his  eyes  always  on  the  corner  of  the 
carpet. 

STEWART,  the  sentry,  is  seen  to  pass  at  rear.  He  halts  again 
and  listens  as  if  he  heard  something.  He  turns  his  face 
towards  the  audience  to  listen  better,  and  with  a  start  becomes 
aware  of  MCGREGOR'S  presence.  He  brings  his  musket 
sharply  to  the  shoulder,  comes  down  the  stage  and  halts 
three  paces  from  MCGREGOR,  his  face  towards  the  audience. 
He  makes  the  stiff  soldier's  salute,  right  hand  across  the 
body. 

MCGREGOR  continues  smoking  and  regarding  the  carpet. 
(Pause.) 

MCGREGOR  (cigar  between  his  teeth).     Well,  Stewart? 

STEWART.  Please,  sir!  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  did  you  'ear 
anything,  sir? 

MCGREGOR.     Eh? 

STEWART.  Listen,  sir!  (MCGREGOR  removes  the  cigar  from 
his  mouth  and  listens.  Dead  silence.) 

MCGREGOR.     What  do  you  mean? 

STEWART  (intensely).  Listen,  sir!  (The  drumming  heard. 
It  stops  abruptly.)  There,  sir! 

MCGREGOR.    Well? 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 


STEWART.  Beg  pardon,  sir — but  me  and  the  men  don't 
fancy  it,  sir. 

MCGREGOR.     That  will  do,  Stewart. 

STEWART.  Yes,  sir!  (Salutes  stiffly — faces  about — marches 
out  and  resumes  sentry  duty,  and  is  seen  at  stated  inter 
vals  passing  and  repassing  beyond  the  arch. 

Door  L.  softly  opens  and  two  HINDUSTANI  SERVANTS 
enter,  one  bearing  a  standard  lamp  with  a  red  shade.  The 
lamp  is  lighted.  The  other  bears  a  small  table  which  he 
places  at  L.  center.  The  standard  lamp  is  placed  near  the 
business  desk.  SERGEANT  MCDOUGAL  enters  L.  with  PRI 
VATE,  both  in  Highland  uniform  and  carrying  telegraphic 
apparatus.  They  cross  the  stage  and  exeunt  door  R. 
After  a  moment  ticking  is  heard  from  that  room.  The 
two  SERVANTS  have  by  this  time  returned  with  the  two 
wicker  chairs,  which  they  place  R.  and  L.  and  then  exeunt. 
SERGEANT  MCDOUGAL  and  PRIVATE  return  through  door  R. 
The  PRIVATE  crosses  stage  and  exits  door  L.  SERGEANT 
MCDOUGAL  comes  down  center. 

Enter  FIRST  and  SECOND  HINDUSTANI  SERVANTS  through 
door  L.  They  go  over  to  MCGREGOR  and  salaam  deeply  be 
fore  him.) 

MCGREGOR.  I  want  you  to  serve  supper  up  here  for  two. 
(They  do  not  move.  A  pause.)  Did  you  hear  what  I 

said?     I  said serve  supper supper up  here  for 

two.     (They  salaam  and  exeunt  softly.) 

McDouGAL.  The  telegraph  is  in  working  order,  sir!  (He 
faces  about  and  goes  towards  door  L.  Just  as  he  is  about 
to  exit ) 

MCGREGOR.     Sergeant ! 

McDouGAL  (stopping  abruptly}.    Y-y-yes,  sir! 

MCGREGOR.     How  many  men  on  guard  duty? 

McDouGAL    (in   a  surprised   tone}.     Seven,   sir!      (Pause.) 

MCGREGOR.    Wake  the  others  up ! 

McDouGAL  (his  tone  more  surprised).  B-b-beg  p-pardon, 
sir! 


8  THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

MCGREGOR.  Double  the  sentries.  Put  Neill  and  ten  men 
on  the  ground  floor  with  orders  to  let  no  one  enter  except 
women  and  civilians.  Take  the  rest  yourself  and  string 
them  along  the  walls.  North  and  West  sides  as  much  as 
possible,  towards  the  dome. 

McDouGAL.  Yes,  sir!  (Is  about  to  exit.}  Pardon,  sir — 
but — but  do  you  know  when  the  regiment  will  be  back? 

MCGREGOR.     Can't  say,  McDougal. 

McDouGAL.     Thank  you,  sir.     (Is  about  to  exit.) 

MCGREGOR.     Sergeant ! 

McDouGAL.     Yes,  sir! 

MCGREGOR.  Lieutenant  Hartley  will  take  command. 
Kindly  wake  him  up  with  my  compliments  and  ask  him 
up  here. 

McDouGAL.    Yes,  sir.     (Exits.) 

(Drumming  is  heard  again.  SENTRY  is  seen  to  pass 
from  R.  to  L.,  then  L.  to  R.  MCGREGOR  still  regards  the  cor 
ner  of  the  carpet,  the  cigar  between  his  teeth.  Door  L. 
opens  and  LIEUTENANT  HARTLEY  enters;  a  tall  fair- 
haired  English  lad,  garrulous  and  pink-cheeked.  He  is 
buttoning  his  tunic  and  wears  the  expression  of  one  who 
has  been  aroused  from  a  deep  sleep.  He  looks  vaguely 
about  for  MCGREGOR,  but  does  not  see  him.) 

MCGREGOR.     Ah,  Hartley. 

HARTLEY  (in  a  thick,  sleepy  voice}.  Oh,  there  you  are — 
didn't  see  where  you  were  at  first.  Why  in  thunder — 
(yawns') — d-d-did  y-y-you  w-wake  me  u-up  at  this  hour? 
Must  be  near  one  or  two  or  something — your  man 
bounced  me  out  of  bed  as  if  the  house  was  afire.  (Goes 
over  to  table  and  mixes  brandy  and  soda.)  And  why  have 
you  moved  up  to  this  outlandish  store-room?  (Drinks 
glass,  his  voice  becoming  more  awake.)  Shifted  all  your 
things,  too!  (He  pauses,  and  then  becoming  wide  awake 
he  suddenly  asks.)  I  say,  McGregor,  what's  up? 

MCGREGOR.     Listen!      (The  drumming  a  shade  louder.) 

HARTLEY.     Oh,  that's  the  Mohurrum  business  they're  hav- 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE  9 

ing.  Guess  the  beggars  will  keep  it  up  all  night.  They 
tell  me  it  is  a  religious  festival  they  hold  here  once  a  year. 
(HARTLEY  takes  a  few  strides  nearer  MCGREGOR.)  I  say, 
you  don't  think  there  is  anything  nasty  about  it,  do  you? 

MCGREGOR.     India  is  a  queer  place,  Hartley. 

HARTLEY.  By  Jove — come  to  think  of  it — I — did  you  hear 
that  queer  rumor  this  morning? 

MCGREGOR.  Rumors.  You're  all  alike,  you  youngsters.  I 
was  the  same  myself  once — well,  out  with  it! 

HARTLEY.     Something  about  a  small  cake ! 

MCGREGOR    (sharply}.     What? Quick where  was   it 

seen? 

HARTLEY  (blithely}.  The  chaps  I  was  talking  to  said  that 
it  was  a  sure  sign  that  these  devils  meant  mischief.  They  .. 
called  it  the  fiery  cross  of  India  and  they  said  that  this 
little  cake  passes  from  hand  to  hand — from  village  to 
village — and  the  message  which  means  mutiny  and  dis 
aster  flies  faster  than  our  telegraph! 

MCGREGOR.    Oh,  yes — I  know  all  that But  where  was  it 

seen? 

HARTLEY.  This  morning  on  the  steps  of  the  Mission!  (A 
pause  while  HARTLEY  watches  face  of  MCGREGOR  who  goes 

on  smoking.     HARTLEY,  in  an  eager  voice.}     I  say by 

Jove you  don't  think  there's  a  chance  for  a  row,  do  you  ? 

MCGREGOR.     Hartley. 

HARTLEY.     Yes,  old  chap? 

MCGREGOR.  You  are  standing  over  forty  tons  of  gunpow 
der! 

HARTLEY  (standing  back  and  looking  down  at  the  carpet). 
What! 

MCGREGOR.     Beneath  you  is  the  magazine! 

HARTLEY.  The  magazine!  (Stooping  and  lifting  edge  of 
carpet.}  I  didn't  know  it  was  here!  Thought  it  was  by 
the  Colonel's  quarters. 

MCGREGOR.    Hartley,  these  Sepoys  want  that  powder. 

HARTLEY.    Eh? 


10  THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

MCGREGOR.     I'm  afraid  they  will  be  disappointed. 

HARTLEY.     I   say,   McGregor — do  you   really   think 

MCGREGOR.  The  regiment  is  away — we  don't  know  when 
it  will  be  back.  The  town  is  full  of  strangers.  .  .  . 
(Pause.)  Hartley,  there  are  women  in  this  town — white 
women — English  women. 

HARTLEY.  Rather.  And,  by  Jove,  there's  my  sister,  Mrs. 
Clayton,  the  widow — I  hadn't  thought  of  her ! 

MCGREGOR.     Well,  you  see — I  had,  Hartley! 

HARTLEY  (surprised).     Why,  what  do  you  mean  .  .  .   ? 

MCGREGOR.  Only  that  I  bribed  her  woman — her  faithful 
ayah — to  bring  her  here  tonight  under  some  pretext  or 
other.  I  expect  her  any  minute  now. 

HARTLEY.  I  say,  that  was  clever  of  you!  (Pause.  MC 
GREGOR  goes  over  center  for  the  first  time  and  looks 
through  archway.  HARTLEY,  in  a  queer  voice.)  You  have 
known  my  sister,  Mrs.  Clayton,  a  long  time  out  here, 
haven't  you? 

MCGREGOR.  I  remember  her  before  she  left  England — 
when  you  were  still  at  Sandhurst. 

HARTLEY.     She  used  often  to  write  me  of  you. 

MCGREGOR  (turning).     She  did? 

HARTLEY.  You  have  been  a  better  friend  to  her  than  ever 
Clayton,  her  husband,  was. 

MCGREGOR.     The  man's  dead,  Hartley. 

HARTLEY.  Oh  yes,  I  know — but  it  was  all  the  mater's  fault 
she  ever  married  him.  (Pause.  HARTLEY  goes  over  to  MC 
GREGOR  in  a  shy,  boyish  manner.)  I  say,  McGregor — 
give  us  a  chance  if  there's  a  row? 

MCGREGOR  (smiling).  I  woke  you  up  for  that  purpose. 
You'll  take  command  of  the  walls  in  a  few  minutes.  I 
I  don't  trust  anyone  here  except  myself.  That  is  why  I 
had  my  things  shifted.  (Takes  out  watch.)  The  Colonel 
ought  to  be  near  Bandagaar  by  this  time.  You  stay  here 
a  moment — I'll  telegraph  along  the  line.  (Goes  toward 
the  door  at  R.) 

HARTLEY.    McGregor ! 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE  11 

MCGREGOR.    Eh? 

HARTLEY.  You're  a  brick  to  give  a  fellow  such  a  chance — 
thanks ! 

MCGREGOR  (laughing}.  Don't  be  too  sanguine,  Hartley — 
it's  a  bad  habit.  Perhaps,  after  all,  this  is  nothing. 
(Exits  into  next  room,  at  R.,  and  after  a  moment  is  heard 
telegraphing. 

HARTLEY  takes  another  look  at  the  magazine,  then 
goes  to  the  center  of  the  archway  and  listens  a  moment  to 
the  drumming,  which,  by  fine  degrees  has  grown  louder. 
The  SENTRY  passes  at  rear,  but  doesn't  see  HARTLEY. 
HARTLEY  goes  over  R.  to  business  desk  and  idly  looks  over 
it.  Picks  up  a  newspaper,  looks  at  it  a  moment,  and  then 
drops  it.  He  sees  writing  materials  upon  the  desk.  He 
seats  himself,  spreads  paper,  leans  forward  and  dips  pen 
in  ink.} 

HARTLEY  (as  he  writes}.  "Dear  mater  .  .  .  This  is  the 
slowest  station  in  Northern  India  .  .  .  there  is  nothing  to 
do  ...  no  society  .  .  .  nothing!  Sis  is  practically  the 
only  Englishwoman  of  any  account,  except  the  Major's 
wife  and  Mrs.  Indermaur.  By  the  way,  Captain  Mc 
Gregor,  my  senior,  you  remember  him  .  .  .  the  chap  Sis 
used  to  write  us  about.  .  .  .  Well,  he's  a  thoroughbred 
and  dead  nuts  on  Sis  ...  has  been  all  his  life,  it  seems. 
I  think  McGregor  is  the  only  man  Sis  ever  cared  a  straw 
about,  but  she  won't  have  a  word  said  against  Clayton's 
memory."  .  .  .  (HARTLEY  leans  back  in  his  chair,  lifting 
his  pen  and  searching  the  ceiling  for  ideas.  Then  leans 
forward  and  continues  writing  in  silence. 

Door  L.  softly  opens  and  FIRST  and  SECOND  SERVANTS 
glide  noiselessly  in,  walking  as  Orientals  do,  straight 
from  the  hips.  They  move  about  quietly  setting  the  table. 
The  drumming  ceases  suddenly.  The  SERVANTS  raise  their 
heads  slowly  and  look  deep  into  each  other's  eyes,  across  the 
table.  They  both  come  forward  center  without  changing  their 
relative  positions  or  shifting  their  gaze  from  each  other's 
eyes.  They  stand  center  a  moment  listening.  Then  a 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDF. 


small  white  cake,  the  size  of  a  griddle  cake,  flies  through 
the  archway  and  falls  between  the  SERVANTS.  The  FIRST 
SERVANT  drops  on  one  knee  and  covers  the  cake  with  his 
right  hand,  and  watches  his  companion.  SECOND  SERVANT 
takes  four  deliberate  steps  backwards,  which  brings  him 
immediately  behind  HARTLEY,  who  is  deep  in  his  letter. 
SECOND  SERVANT  slowly  draws  from  his  bosom  a  pistol 
which  he  levels  at  HARTLEY'S  neck,  about  two  feet  distant. 
HARTLEY  blots  letter  with  a  satisfied  air,  throws  down  pen, 
leans  far  back  in  his  chair,  which  brings  the  muzzle  of  the 
pistol  within  two  inches  of  his  neck.  He  passes  his  hand 
through  his  hair  and  reads.)  (Reading  in  a  satisfied  air) 
.  .  .  "and  I  always  wear  my  flannels  as  you  asked  me  to, 
and  take  my  two  grains  of  quinine  regularly.  I  forgot 
to  say  in  my  last  letter  that  Spifly  Watkins  may  have 
my  cricket  bat.  I  shan't  need  it  again,  but  don't  let  any 
one  touch  my  fishing  rod  on  any  account!  (Leans  for 
ward  to  underline  —  "any")  You  needn't  be  anxious 
about  me,  mother  dear  —  there  is  no  danger  in  India.  It's 
positively  dull,  it's  so  safe.  Love  to  everybody  —  shall 
write  the  girls  next  mail.  Your  affectionate  son,  Alan 
Hartley.  P.S.  —  I  repeat  —  don't  let  anyone  touch  my  fish 
ing  rod." 

(The  ticking  of  the  telegraph  is  heard  to  stop  suddenly. 
SECOND  SERVANT  hides  pistol  in  his  bosom.  FIRST  SERVANT 
rises  and  hides  cake  in  his  sash.  Both  assume  position 
at  door  L.,  one  immediately  behind  the  other  —  watching 
HARTLEY  intently.  HARTLEY  rises,  folds  letter,  slips  it 
into  envelope,  and  is  about  to  lick  it  when  he  becomes 
aware  of  the  two  Indians  staring  at  him.  He  is  taken 
aback.  They  drop  their  eyes  —  salaam,  and  exeunt  to 
gether.) 

HARTLEY  (taking  five  paces  after  them  and  stopping  with  a 
startled  expression).  By  Gad,  I  didn't  know  those  men 
were  in  the  room.  I  wish  these  servant  fellows  would 
laugh  or  make  a  noise,  or  anything  —  instead  of  bowing 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE  13 

and  gliding  about.     (With,  a  slight  shudder.)     Makes  a 
fellow  feel  deuced  uncanny! 

MCGREGOR  (entering  with,  papers  which  he  throws  on  busi 
ness  desk,  then  comes  center,  sits).  Can't  get  the  Colonel 
yet.  They  haven't  reached  the  station — or  they  have 
passed  it. 

HARTLEY    (still   looking   after   the   servants}.     I    say,    Mc 
Gregor,  do  you  trust  those  two  servants  of  yours  ? 
MCGREGOR    (laughing   and   coming   forward).      Implicitly. 
.  .  .  Come,  my  dear  boy,  take  a  seat  and  have  some  sup 
per.     (Motions  HARTLEY  to  a  seat  opposite  to  him  at  the 
table.}     I  would  trust  those  two  men  with  my  life. 
HARTLEY.     Well,  I  suppose  you  know.     For  myself,  I  don't 
like  them.     Fact  is,  I  never  liked  the  looks  of  any  of  these 
vermin — they're  so  damned  slippery. 

MCGREGOR.     Hartley,  may  I  give  you  a  piece  of  advice? 
HARTLEY  (taking  a  large  piece  of  toast.    His  mouth  full). 

Go  ahead. 

MCGREGOR.  You  are  new  to  India — you  have  only  joined 
the  regiment  three  weeks,  and  you  have  an  imagination. 
.  .  .  My  boy,  quell  it — stifle  it — for  if  you  let  it  grow  in 
this  hotbed  of  rumors  and  strange  noises,  it  will  devour 
you!  I  have  seen  brave  men  made  cowards  by  it.  ... 
Sherry? 

HARTLEY.  Thanks.  (MCGREGOR  pours  it  out.}  Perhaps 
you're  right,  but  talking  of  rumors — do  tell  me  more 
about  this  chuppattie  cake! 

MCGREGOR.     Fact  is,  no  one  knows  much  about  them.     A 
chuppattie  cake  is  the  commonest  thing  in  India.     Why, 
it's  the  food  of  the  people — it's  their  bread. 
HARTLEY.     These  chaps  told  me  it  was  a  signal  of  mutiny 
— they  told  me  of  a  sentence  that  went  with  it — do  you 
know  it? 
MCGREGOR.    "Sub   lal   hogga   hi."      (Pronounced  "Sub   lal 

hoyarggi") 

HARTLEY.     And  what  does  that  mean,  pray? 
MCGREGOR  (slowly).     Everything  is  to  become  red! 


14  THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

HARTLEY  (watching  MCGREGOR,  who  goes  on  calmly  eating}. 

Do — do  you  believe  in  it  ? 

McGREGOR.     Depends,  Hartley,  where  I  saw  one. 
HARTLEY.     What  do  you  mean? 
MCGREGOR.     If   I    saw   a   chuppattie    in    an    out-of-the-way 

place 

HARTLEY  (eagerly).    Yes? 

MCGREGOR     (smiling).     India's     a     queer     place,     Hartley, 
(Pause.)     I  remember  when  I  was  with  a  Sepoy  regiment 
once,  the  Colonel  had  us  out  on  a  surprise  inspection  one 
night,  and  we  found  that  a  corporal  had  two  chuppatties 
under   his   pillow.  .  .  .  (Pause.)      We   had   a   narrow   es 
cape  that  night.     (They  both  rise  suddenly  to  their  feet.) 
HARTLEY.     Did  you  hear  that? 
MCGREGOR  (listening).     Yes. 

HARTLEY.  Sounded  like  .  .  .  sounded  like  a  whistle! 
MCGREGOR.  Sit  down!  (They  both  sit  down.  Enter  the 
TWO  HINDUSTANI  SERVANTS  with  more  dishes  for  dinner.) 
MCGREGOR  (to  FIRST  SERVANT).  Abdul,  that  lamp  is  smok 
ing — turn  it  down.  (FIRST  SERVANT  crosses  the  stage  to  R. 
to  standing  lamp,  which  he  lowers.  He  listens  all  the 
while  intently,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  his  companion,  who  is 
immediately  behind  HARTLEY.  As  he  reaches  center  of  stage 
on  his  return,  unnoticed  by  himself  or  any  of  the  others, 
the  chuppattie  falls  from  his  sash  to  the  floor  near  MC 
GREGOR.  Exeunt  SERVANTS  softly.) 

HARTLEY  (using  a  siphon).     I  don't  like  those  two  men! 
MCGREGOR.     Oh,  you  will  get  over  that,  Hartley. 

(Door  L.  bursts  open  and  SERGEANT  MCDOUGAL  enters, 
breathless — he  salutes  and  stands.) 
MCGREGOR  (going  on  eating).     Well,  McDougal? 
McDouGAL     (breathlessly).       Please,     sir — Mrs.     Cameron, 
Miss   Williams    and    five   other    ladies,    Mr.    Palmer   and 
Judge   Lawson  with  some  civilian  gentlemen,  have  come 
into  the  walls,  sir!     They  seek  protection,  sir!     They're 
afraid  of  a  rising,  sir! 
MCGREGOR.    Ah!     Is — is  Mrs.  Clayton  with  them? 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE  15 

McDouoAL.     N-n-no,   Sir!      P-p-please,   s-sir — what'll    I   do 

with  them,  sir*? 
MCGREGOR    (thoughtfully).     Well,   I  can't  very  well  leave 

this   room.  .  .  . 

HARTLEY  (rising  abruptly).     I'll  go! 

MCGREGOR.  Sit  down — I  want  you  here,  Hartley!  Mc- 
Dougal,  put  the  ladies  in  the  Mess  Room  and  see  that 
they  are  properly  cared  for.  Give  the  gentlemen  mus 
kets  and  put  them  on  the  North  Side  as  much  as  possible. 
Lieut.  Hartley  will  take  command  in  a  few  minutes.  Mo 
Dougal ! 
McDouoAL.  Yes,  sir!  (About  to  exit.) 

MCGREGOR.     And  McDougal 

McDouGAL.     Yes,  sir! 

MCGREGOR.     If  Mrs.  Clayton  comes,  show  her  up  here. 

McDouGAL.     Yes,  sir.     (Salutes  and  exits.) 

(They  go  on  eating  in  silence.  HARTLEY  tries  to  hide 
his  excitement  and  watches  MCGREGOR  excitedly.  At  last, 
with  a  great  show  of  unconcern  he  drains  his  cup  of  coffee, 
uses  a  napkin,  throws  it  down,  and  speaks  in  an  obviously 
careless  manner.) 
HARTLEY.  My  sister.  .  .  .  You  think  she  will  get  here 

safely? 

MCGREGOR.  I  have  known  this  servant  of  hers  for  years. 
Your  sister  will  be  here — don't  you  worry.  (Rises — 
another  pause.  HARTLEY  tries  again  to  hide  his  excitement.) 
HARTLEY  (obviously  making  conversation).  I  say,  McGregor 
— I  am  interested  about  these  chuppattie  cakes — tell  me  what 
does  one  look  like? 

MCGREGOR  (going  over  to  business  desk.  He  gets  cigar  box 
from  a  drawer  and  returns  across  stage.  He  pauses  in  the 
center  and  looks  out  into  the  moonlight.)  Hartley,  I  don't 
see  that  sentry !  (He  remains  silent  a  moment,  looking  out, 
then  comes  over  to  the  table  and  throws  the  cigar  box  among 
the  dishes.)  Have  a  cheroot? 

(Business,  of  HARTLEY  choosing  one.    MCGREGOR  puts  a 
match  into  the  candle  and  facing  audience  holds  it  in  the 


16  THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

air,  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling.)    What's  a  chuppattie  look  like? 
Why,  let  me  see  if  I  can  describe  it  to  you. 

(Lights  cigar  thoughtfully — then  looks  upon  the  floor, 
match  still  burning  in  his  right  hand.  Sees  cake  at  his  feet. 
Shakes  out  the  lighted  match  slowly.  Puts  it  carefully  in 
the  saucer.  Takes  a  draw  at  his  cigar,  all  the  while  examin 
ing  the  cake  intently.)  Well,  it  looks  like  a  griddle  cake 
.  .  .  it's  thick — and — er — white.  (Leans  down  and  picks  up 
with  his  right  hand  and  weighs  it.)  Weighs  about  an  ounce 
— looks  deuced  indigestible! 

(HARTLEY  at  this  word  is  in  the  act  of  lighting  his  cigar 
under  the  candle  shade.  MCGREGOR  carelessly  throws  cake 
on  table  and  it  falls  with  a  clatter  among  the  dishes.)  Some 
thing  like  that,  Hartley. 

HARTLEY  (sternly,  back).    My  God — how  did  that  get  here? 

MCGREGOR  (looking  over  the  heads  of  the  audience).  I  told 
you  India  was  a  queer  place,  Hartley.  (HARTLEY  puts  his 
cigar  on  his  plate  and  watches  MCGREGOR'S  face  excitedly.) 

MCGREGOR  (slowly).  The  first  thing  to  be  done,  Hartley, 
is  to  see  if  that  sentry  is  there. 

HARTLEY  (quickly).  I'll  go  and  see!  (Turns  and  runs 
towards  arch.) 

MCGREGOR.  Stop/  (HARTLEY  stops  abruptly.)  Are  you 
armed  ? 

HARTLEY  (with  a  rising  inflection).    No!     (Looks  about.) 

McGREGOR.  You  will  find  one  in  the  left-hand  drawer  of  my 
desk.  (HARTLEY  goes  to  desk,  opens  drawer,  takes  out  pistol, 
comes  back  center  holding  the  pistol  in  front  of  him.  Is  seen 
to  collect  himself,  square  his  shoulders  and  march  out  into 
the  moonlight  with  military  step.  Halts  without,  his  back 
to  the  audience.)  What  do  you  see  ? 

HARTLEY.  All  the  men  seem  to  be  at  their  posts.  I  see  Mr. 
Palmer  and  Judge  Lawson — they  have  given  them  muskets. 

MCGREGOR.  And  Stewart — the  sentry?  (HARTLEY  disap 
pears  R.  of  archway,  then  returns  at  a  run.  He  arrives 
breathless  at  MCGREGOR'S  side.) 

HARTLEY  (in  a  whisper).    They've  cut  his  throat! 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE  17 

MCGREGOR.  Hartley!  Hartley!  (Draws  his  cigar  sharply 
from  his  mouth.  Pause.)  Hartley,  would  you  mind  going 
into  that  room  and  telegraphing  ? 

HARTLEY  (flying  to  the  door  R.,  breathless  with  excitement). 
What  will  I  say? 

MCGREGOR.  Get  Bandaggaar.  ...  If  they  don't  answer  get 
Sir  John  at  Hadraa  .  .  .  then  the  Bulbud  Residency.  .  .  . 
Repeat  the  one  word  "massacre"  till  someone  answers  you! 

(Exit  HARTLEY,  banging  the  door.  Then  the  sound  of  the 
machine  repeating  the  same  message  over  and  over  again. 
Drumming  begins  again.  MCGREGOR  stands  a  moment  longer 
looking  over  the  heads  of  the  audience,  then  goes  quickly  to 
the  business  desk  and  begins  pulling  out  with  feverish  hurry 
papers  and  documents  which  he  tears  to  pieces.  His  cigar 
between  his  teeth.  Door  L.  opens  with  a  bang  and  the  TWO 
HINDUSTANI  SERVANTS  burst  into  the  room,  wildly  searching 
for  the  lost  chuppattie  cake.  FIRST  SERVANT  is  seen  feeling  in 
his  sash.  MCGREGOR  turns  sharply  around.)  What  the 

devil 

(SERVANTS  immediately  salaam  and  make  a  pretense  of 
going  towards  the  table.}  Oh  yes,  we  have  finished — you 
may  clear  away  the  things. 

(He  turns  his  back  to  them  and  goes  on  tearing  up  the 
papers.  As  soon  as  his  back  is  turned,  FIRST  SERVANT  signals 
through  door  at  L.  and  out  troop  all  the  other  SERVANTS. 
They  tiptoe  down  stage,  all  with  their  eyes  on  MCGREGOR'S 
back.  They  pass  through  arch  and  one  by  one  leap  lightly 
over  the  parapet  and  out  of  sight.  When  all  have  gone—' 
MCGREGOR  speaks  through  his  teeth,  still  tearing  up  his 
papers,  his  back  to  the  empty  stage.}  Look  here,  you  men — 
I  didn't  like  the  way  you  burst  into  the  room  just  now! 
(Pause,  he  goes  on  tearing  up  papers.)  What  did  you  mean 
by  it?  (Pause.)  I  said,  what  did  you  mean  by  it?  (He 
turns  sharply.}  Look  here,  when  I  ask  a  question  I  expect 
an  answer.  .  .  .  (The  words  die  on  his  lips  as  he  sees  the 
empty  stage.} 

(Stands  silent  a  moment,  looking  at  the  untouched  supper 


18  THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

table.  Then  takes  three  deliberate  steps  backwards,  which 
brings  him  to  R.  of  arch.  He  raises  his  hand  and  unhooks 
one  of  the  Indian  swords  that  decorates  the  wall,  and  throws 
it  lightly  on  the  desk  within  easy  reach.  He  then  leans 
comfortably  on  the  side  of  the  archway,  looking  out  into  the 
moonlight,  smoking  his  cigar.  A  sound  of  running  feet  ap 
proaching.  MCGREGOR'S  hand  is  seen  to  move  towards  the 
sword  on  the  desk.  He  continues  smoking  and  looking  out.} 

A  WOMAN'S  VOICE.  Captain  McGregor!  Captain  McGregor! 
(MCGREGOR  removes  the  cigar  from  his  mouth  and  gives  a 
quick  look  at  the  magazine  door.  Then,  breathless  and  half 
crying  with  excitement,  MRS.  CLAYTON  enters  wildly  and 
leans  fainting  against  wall  L.  of  archway.  She  covers  her 
eyes  with  her  arm.) 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (wildly).  Captain  McGregor  .  .  .  your  men 
.  .  .  your  men  showed  me  up  here  ...  the  town  is  rising! 
Save  me!  Save  me! 

MCGREGOR  (in  a  polite  voice,  carefully  putting  cigar  out  in  a 
small  ash-tray  beside  him  on  the  desk).  Why,  how  do  you 
do,  Mrs.  Clayton? 

MRS.  CLAYTON.  No — no — no — the  Sepoys — they're  rising — 
where  is  my  brother? — I  escaped  just  in  time!  .  .  . 

McGREGOR  (wheeling  on  an  easy  chair  towards  her).  I  know, 
but  won't  you  sit  down?  .  .  .  Your  brother  is  here  ...  in 
the  next  room. 

MRS.  CLAYTON.     Can't  you  hear  them?  .  .  .  they're  coming 
.  .  .  we'll  all  be  massacred ! 

MCGREGOR.  Come,  Mrs.  Clayton.  .  .  .  (Forces  her  gently 
into  a  chair).  Sit  down.  Your  nerves  are  all  awry.  Calm 
yourself ! 

MRS.  CLAYTON.  Calm  myself!  .  .  .  Listen!  (They  listen  a 
moment  to  the  drumming.) 

MCGREGOR  (going  over  to  the  table,  taking  a  decanter  with 
which  he  fills  a  small  glass) .  Why,  you  know  what  that  is, 
Mrs.  Clayton;  it's  the  Mohurrum  business — religious  affair 
— pious  riot — quite  harmless.  Won't  you  try  some  of  ray 
sherry  ?  (Offers  glass.) 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE  19 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (waving  glass  aside}.  Captain  McGregor,  the 
natives  are  pouring  into  the  town  by  thousands !  They  are 
collecting  at  the  bazaar!  There  is  danger!  I  feel  it  here! 
(Puts  hand  on  heart.) 

MCGREGOR.  Do  you  think,  Mrs.  Clayton,  that  if  there  was 
much  danger  I  would  be  here  enjoying  a  cigar  alone? 

MRS.  CLAYTON.  I — I — I — suppose — after  all — I — I — I — I 
have  let  my  nerves  get  the  better  of  me  ...  but,  oh,  Captain 
McGregor — just  as  I  was  going  to  bed  I  began  to  hear  that 
horrid,  queer  noise  they  are  making!  (Listens  a  moment.) 
I  called  Rebottie — you  know  her — my  faithful  ayah.  Well, 
she  told  me  that  all  the  servants  had  fled ! 

MCGREGOR  (laughing).  You  can  no  more  keep  a  native  from 
a  Mohurrum  than  a  small  boy  from  a  circus.  My  servants 
have  left  me,  too! 

MRS.  CLAYTON.  But  this  kind  of  thing  never  happened  to  me 
before !  We  flew  to  the  stables  to  saddle  our  own  horses,  but 
they  were  all  gone — they  had  taken  them  too.  ...  So  we 
ran  here  on  foot — choosing  the  back  street.  I  could  see  the 
town  was  full  of  strangers — they  are  pouring  from  all  quar 
ters  !  When  we  came  to  your  gates  they  sent  me  up  here ! 

MCGREGOR.  They  did  right — but  after  all  this,  you  must  calm 
yourself.  (Gives  her  the  glass  again,  which  she  reluctantly 
drinks.  While  she  is  in  the  act,  he  turns  his  head  slowly  and 
looks  through  the  archway.) 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (weakly.)  I'm  afraid  I've  made  an  awful  fool 
of  myself.  You'll  have  to  forgive  me,  Captain  McGregor. 
You  know,  really,  I  am  not  often  frightened,  but  India  has 
always  been  a  land  of  horror  to  me.  Full  of  sounds  and 
strange  noises — terrible — terrible  silences  .  .  .  and  always 
those  eyes  looking  at  you !  One  can't  help  thinking  of  what 
these  Sepoys  will  do  when  they  are  once  let  loose !  Remem 
ber  that  Oude  massacre.  .  .  .  Massacre !  Massacre !  .  .  .  I 
can't  get  that  word  out  of  my  brain. 

MCGREGOR  (still  listening  and  not  looking  up).  Come — rest 
a  bit.  You're  worn  out! 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (suddenly,  after  a  pause).    But  I  can't  stay 


20  THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

here — it's  late!  If  you  really  think,  Captain  McGregor, 
that  there  is  no  cause  for  alarm,  will  you  forgive  a  silly 
woman  and  let  her  return  home  ? 

MCGREGOR  (slowly}.  Won't  you  stay  a  bit?  ...  Your 
brother  is  here. 

MRS.  CLAYTON.  I'd  like  to  ...  (laughing} — but  it's  growing 
very  late ! 

MCGREGOR.  Then  I'll  call  Stewart  and  have  him  take  you 
home.  (Goes  toward  arch,  thinking  deeply.  Then  stopping.) 
By  the  way,  won't  you  in  the  meantime  play  me  something 
on  my  new  piano?  I  had  it  shifted  up  here  with  my  other 
things — I  want  you  to  try  it  for  me. 

(Reluctant,  yet  to  humor  him,  she  pulls  off  her  gloves  and 
goes  towards  the  piano.  She  pauses  to  put  her  gloves  upon 
the  table,  and  sees  the  chuppattie  cake  lying  among  the 
dishes.  She  turns  quickly  with  a  face  full  of  horror  to  MC 
GREGOR,  who  is  leaning  against  the  archway  and  looking  out.} 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (in  an  awed  and  intense  voice}.  How  did  this 
get  here  ? 

MCGREGOR.  Eh?  ...  Oh  ...  the  chuppattie.  .  .  .  Why, 
you  know,  I  rather  like  them.  Always  have  them  for  sup 
per.  .  .  .  I'm  quite  an  Indian  in  my  tastes. 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (with  a  short  laugh  of  relief}.  You  must  think 
I'm  an  awful  coward — but  you  know  the  rumor  of  these 
cakes,  and  that  awful  sentence,  "All  is  to  become  red!" 
(Stands  still,  looking  down  at  it  with  a  frightened  face.} 

MCGREGOR.  Come — you  have  been  badly  frightened,  and  I 
don't  blame  you.  Do  try  my  piano  and  forget  for  a  moment 
this  country  which  you  detest  so  heartily ! 

(MRS.  CLAYTON  goes  over  to  the  piano,  seats  herself  and 
commences  playing  "THE  WATER  LILY"  softly  and  with  deep 
feeling.  The  drumming  goes  on.  HARTLEY  is  heard  repeat 
ing  the  one  word  incessantly  on  the  telegraph.  MCGREGOR 
keeps  his  position  at  the  side  of  the  archway,  looking  out. 
MRS.  CLAYTON  plays  for  some  time  in  silence.} 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (stopping  abruptly,  and  'm  a  queer  voice}.  Did 
you  call  that  man  to  take  me  home,  Captain  McGregor  ? 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE  21 

MCGREGOR.     Yes. 

MRS.  CLAYTON.    I  didn't  hear  you. 

MCGREGOR  {coming  down  stage  and  leaning  over  the  edge  of 
the  piano).  He  will  be  here  in  a  moment.  (She  goes  on 
playing  again,  looking  up  at  him.  His  voice  changes  to  one 
of  emotion).  That  was  the  melody  you  played  at  the  Maha 
rajah's  ball. 

MRS.  CLAYTON.     You  remember  that*? 

MCGREGOR.  Remember!  .  .  .  My  life  is  made  up  of  mem 
ories.  (Pause.)  I  remember  the  day  when  a  fresh,  young 
English  girl  arrived  on  the  decks  of  a  great  East  Indiaman 
— and  how  we  cheered  her  pretty  face !  I  remember  a  mili 
tary  wedding  at  Calcutta  and  Mrs.  Jack  Clayton,  the  toast 
of  the  regiment.  And  then  I  remember  when  I  first  saw 
you  in  mourning.  ...  I  remember  many  things!  (Sighs.) 
{Here  a  long  pause.  MCGREGOR  turns  his  face  slowly  and 
looks  through  archway). 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (her  voice  low  and  full).  You  have  been  a 
loyal  friend!  (She  plays.) 

MCGREGOR  (turning  to  her  with  a  smile).  How  wonderfully 
you  play !  (A  pause.)  What  a  strange  and  beautiful  thing 
awakened  memory  is !  One  can  live  again  those  hours  one 
has  thought  forever  lost.  Do  you — can  you — remember  and 
live  over  those  wonderful  days — in  the  old  bungalow  by  the 
river — the  queer  lights  and  tall  shadows — when  in  the  gaiety 
of  your  heart  you  called  me  Major  Dobbin? 

MRS.  CLAYTON.  Because  you  were  so  awkward  and  were 
always  upsetting  my  tea  cups  and  things — oh,  yes — I  re 
member. 

MCGREGOR.  I  thought  you  called  me  Major  Dobbin  because 
I  was  so  faithful. 

MRS.  CLAYTON.  Perhaps  I  did.  (She  plays  on  a  moment, 
and  then  stops  and  sits  looking  out  into  the  moonlight  in 
silence,  MCGREGOR  watching  her  intently  the  while.)  What 
a  dear  fellow  you  were,  Major  Dobbin !  Ah,  a  woman  never 
forgets  a  man's  friendship  in  a  time  like  that — and  it  seems 


22  THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

I  can  never  get  the  chance — (turning  to  him)  to  thank  you 
enough ! 

MCGREGOR.  Thank  me!  ...  Why,  I  stood  by  you,  as  you 
call  it,  because  I  couldn't  help  myself — because  you're  the 
only  woman  worthy  of  the  name  .  .  .  because  you  took  your 
trouble  like  a  thoroughbred  .  .  .  because  .  .  .  because  you 
are  beautiful  .  .  .  because  you're  straight  and  tall  and  your 
hair  is  brown  .  .  .  because  you're  true,  and  clean-hearted 
.  .  .  because,  old  friend,  I  have  loved  you  all  my  life ! 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (her  voice  broken).     Major  Dobbin! 

MCGREGOR  (coming  to  her  side  and  kneeling  on  one  knee). 
Aye — Major  Dobbin — as  ever  was! 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (putting  her  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  looking 
down  into  his  eyes).  You  know  'way  down  deep  in  your 
heart  that  you  were  the  first  and  only  one — and  now,  old 
friend,  tried  and  trusted — after  all  these  years  of  silence  and 
pain — here  is  your  reward.  (With  a  low  laugh.)  A  poor 
thing,  Major,  but  myself — my  honor — my  life — my — my — 
(tenderly  drawing  his  head  with  both  hands  to  her  bosom 
and  putting  her  lips  to  his  hair)  .  .  .  my  Major  Dobbin! 
(MCGREGOR  raises  his  head  and  their  lips  meet.  MCGREGOR 
then  stands  straight  and  breathes  deep.) 

MCGREGOR.  It  was  worth  it — it  was  worth  the  waiting  for! 
(The  sound  of  a  chair  being  violently  overturned  in  room 
at  R".) 

MRS.  CLAYTON.  What  is  that?  (Door  bursts  open  and 
HARTLEY  bursts  in.) 

HARTLEY  (shouting).    McGregor!    McGregor! 

MCGREGOR  (going  quickly  up  to  him  and  speaking  in  a  calm, 
rapid  voice).  Ah,  Hartley  .  .  .  (turning)  here  is  Mrs. 
Clayton,  your  sister  .  .  .  she  sought  our  protection,  thinking 
that  perhaps  this  Mohurrum  was  a  Sepoy  rising,  but  I  have 
assured  her  that  there  is  no  .cause  for  alarm. 

HARTLEY  (breathlessly).  It's  all  right,  Sis  ...  you  needn't 
be  alarmed  .  .  .  — I — I — I — if  there  had  been  any  danger 
we  would  have  heard  of  it. 

MRS.  CLAYTON.    You  must  forgive  us  poor  women  our  cow- 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE  23 

ardice,  Alan — it  is  only  when  we  realize  our  helplessness  that 
we  are  frightened!  Sometimes  I  wish  that  I  were  a  man — a 
soldier — a  Highlander  like  yourselves — instead  of  a  woman 
who  has  to  wait  and  listen  .  .  .  and  listen  .  .  .  and  listen! 

HARTLEY  (blatantly}.  It  is  not  all  beer  and  skittles  being  a 
man,  I  can  assure  you,  Sis  .  .  .  Why,  do  you  know — just 
now  .  .  .  ! 

MCGREGOR  (sharply}.    Hartley! 

HARTLEY.     Eh? 

MCGREGOR.     Would  you  kindly  take  a  message  for  me  ? 

HARTLEY.  Pardon  me,  Sis.  (She  inclines  her  head  and  goes 
on  playing,  her  eyes  to  the  keys.  HARTLEY  goes  over  to  MC 
GREGOR  and  both  watch  her  as  they  speak.} 

MCGREGOR  (in  an  undertone}.     Well,  what  is  it? 

HARTLEY  (in  an  excited  whisper}.     They  have  cut  the  wires! 

MCGREGOR.     Ah — I  thought  as  much! 

HARTLEY.     Sir  John  says,  don't  let  them  get  the  powder ! 

MCGREGOR.     He  needn't  worry. 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (stopping  her  playing  and  looking  up}.  Is 
your  man  ready,  Captain  McGregor?  (Politely.}  It  is 
growing  very  late ! 

MCGREGOR.  I  am  sending  your  brother  to  hurry  him  up. 
(MRS.  CLAYTON  goes  on  playing.} 

HARTLEY  (to  MCGREGOR).     Well? 

MCGREGOR.  You'll  take  command  now  at  once,  as  they  will 
be  on  us  in  a  moment.  Hold  them  off  as  long  as  possible. 
I'll  stay  here  and  watch  that  powder.  (Points  to  the  corner 
of  the  carpet.}  I  daren't  trust  anyone  in  this  room  except 
myself.  If  they  once  get  over  the  walls.  .  .  . 

HARTLEY.     We're  lost! 

MCGREGOR.     If  they  once  do,  Hartley.  .  .  . 

HARTLEY.    Yes  ? 

MCGREGOR.  Have  the  bugler  sound  the  charge  so  that  I  can 
hear  it.  Make  him  play  it  loudly,  mind  you! 

HARTLEY.     And  then ? 

MCGREGOR.     I  shall  blow  up  the  magazine! 

HARTLEY.    By  Jove 


24  THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

McGREGOR.  Quick — say  a  word  to  your  sister,  and  go! 
(HARTLEY  backs  down  stage,  watching  MCGREGOR,  who  is 
looking  out  into  the  moonlight — he  feels  the  air  behind  him 
for  his  sister.} 

HARTLEY  (as  he  reaches  her.  She  continues  to  play}.  I  say, 
Sis,  I'm  going  for  the  man.  I  won't  be  back  myself — he'll 
see  you  safe  home.  I  want  to  say  good — good-night! 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (continuing  her  music}.  Good-night,  old  fel 
low! 

HARTLEY.     Sis  ? 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (stopping  and  looking  around).     Yes,  Alan? 

HARTLEY.  Pardon  my  asking,  but — has  McGregor  said  any 
thing  to  you  ? 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (looking  up  and  smiling}.     Yes. 

HARTLEY  (with  enthusiasm}.  I'm  glad!  (Bending  and  kiss 
ing  her  tenderly.}  Good-night,  old  girl ! 

MRS.  CLAYTON.     Good-night,  my  brother ! 

HARTLEY  (goes  up  to  MCGREGOR  and  gives  him  his  hand  in 
silence.}  I  congratulate  you.  .  .  .  By  Jove,  you  are  a  brick. 
.  .  .  (Lower.}  Good-bye!  (MCGREGOR  gives  him  his  hand 
in  silence  and  HARTLEY  exits,  drawing  his  pistol. 

MCGREGOR  remains  a  moment  looking  after  him,  and  then 
comes  down  stage  and  leans  on  the  piano  and  watches  MRS. 
CLAYTON  as  she  continues  to  play  softly.  A  Sepoy's  head 
and  shoulders  rise  up  stealthily  from  behind  the  balustrade 
— beyond  the  arch.  First  an  arm  appearing,  then  a  turban, 
and  then  a  white-trousered  leg  is  thrown  over  the  balustrade. 
MCGREGOR  turns  quickly  and  sees  the  Sepoy  who  instantly 
drops  out  of  sight.  MRS.  CLAYTON  has  seen  nothing  and 
continues  playing  dreamily.  MCGREGOR  goes  at  once  to  the 
desk  and  quickly  opens  a  drawer  and  takes  out  a  black  coil 
of  fuse.  He  comes  down  center.  He  throws  back  the  corner 
of  the  carpet,  opens  the  magazine  door,  gives  a  quick  look 
through  the  archway,  and  lowers  one  end  of  the  fuse  deep 
into  the  magazine?) 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (not  looking  up}.  Ah!  I'm  so  happy.  .  •  • 
Tell  me,  dear,  you  like  my  brother  *? 


THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE  25 

MCGREGOR  (backing  and  uncoiling  fuse).  Rather!  (MC 
GREGOR  leaves  end  of  fuse  near  center.) 

MRS.  CLAYTON.  I  suppose  India  will  spoil  him  like  all  the 
rest — but  it's  like  a  breath  of  old  England  to  see  his  boyish 
honest  face ! 

MCGREGOR.  Rather.  .  .  .  (He  says  this  as  he  is  in  the  act  of 
taking  one  of  the  silver  candlesticks,  removes  the  shade,  and 
places  it  with  the  lighted  candle  near  the  end  of  the  fuse.) 

MRS.  CLAYTON.  I  remember  when  I  first  saw  India — how  ter 
rified  I  was — the  bronze  and  blackened  faces.  .  .  . 

(She  happens  to  look  around.  She  stops  playing  and  rises 
slowly.  MCGREGOR  is  standing  over  the  lighted  candle  with 
his  hands  rammed  in  his  coat  pockets.  He  is  looking  out  into 
the  moonlight.  She  looks  from  him  to  the  open  magazine, 
and  back  to  him  again.) 

MRS.  CLAYTON.     What  are  you  doing? 

MCGREGOR  (turning  his  face  towards  the  audience).  You 
will  pardon  me — I  have  lied  to  you.  I  am  afraid,  after  all, 
there  is  danger.  (A  pause — MRS.  CLAYTON  remains  perfectly 
still.)  I  thought  perhaps  I'd  spare  you  unnecessary  alarm, 
but  I'm  afraid  I  can't — you  see,  the  regiment  is  not  on  time. 
I  know  you  for  a  thoroughbred — you've  the  blood  of  soldiers 
in  your  veins.  So  I  can  tell  you  plainly  how  we  stand  ? 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (after  drawing  a  quick  breath).     Tell  me! 

MCGREGOR.  That  door  you  see  open  is  the  powder  magazine. 
.  .  .  You  know  what  it  means  if  these  Sepoys  capture  it — 
You  know  what  it  means  if  I  let  them  capture  you.  You 
know  what  it  means  when  they  get  an  Englishwoman  in  their 
power !  My  Highlanders  will  hold  them  off  as  long  as  pos 
sible,  and  if  they  fail  .  .  .  you  see  my  duty*? 

MRS.  CLAYTON  (after  a  pause,  while  she  struggles  with  her 
self).  Yes! 

MCGREGOR.  I  thought  it  would  seem  a  hard  thing  to  do,  but 
with  you  beside  me — why,  girl,  I  am  going  to  blow  up  that 
magazine.  .  .  .  Will  you  stand  by  me  ? 

MRS.  CLAYTON.  With  my  last  breath !  (  The  sound  of  mus 
ket  shooting  without,  rapid  and  terrifying.) 


26  THE  DRUMS  OF  OUDE 

MCGREGOR.  Ah,  they've  begun  already!  {They  stand  lis 
tening.)  Tell  me  if  you  hear  the  bugle  call!  {The  noise 
without  becomes  deafening.  Savage  yells,  hoots  and  firing. 
The  sky  through  the  archway  turns  scarlet  as  if  the  city 
were  afire.  Suddenly  the  standing  lamp  at  R.  is  shot  to  pieces 
by  a  stray  bullet.  MRS.  CLAYTON  screams,  but  still  stands 
beside  piano.)  What's  that?  {They  listen.  A  sudden  lull 
in  the  battle  and  a  tiny  call  is  heard  gallantly  playing  in  the 
distance.  MCGREGOR  slowly  leans  down  and  takes  the  lighted 
candlestick  in  his  hand  and  looks  up  at  MRS.  CLAYTON.  She 
goes  to  him.  He  then  slowly  and  carefully  touches  the  fuse 
with  the  lighted  candle.  It  burns  with  great  display  towards 
the  magazine.  Together  they  watch  the  fuse  as  it  hisses  and 
splutters  towards  the  yawning  pit.  The  noise  without  be 
comes  deafening.  The  red  light  flares  more  brilliantly — 
when  suddenly  the  noise  stops.  Dead  silence.) 
MRS.  CLAYTON  {dashes  for  MCGREGOR'S  side).  Stop  it!  Stop 
it!  {She  flies  to  the  fuse  and  stamps  it  out.)  Can't  you 
hear  it?  ...  Listen! 

{Pause.  They  both  listen.  Then  far  away  in  the  dis 
tance  is  heard  fife,  drum  and  bagpipes  playing,  "The  Camp 
bells  Are  Coming,  Ye  Ho,  Ye  Ho."  It  swells  louder  at  each 
approaching  step. 

HARTLEY  enters  wildly,  his  coat  torn  off  his  back;  he  car 
ries  his  smoking  revolver,  which  he  waves  madly.) 
HARTLEY  {hoarsely,  and  with  excitement).     McGregor — Mc 
Gregor— it's  all  right!     The  Highlanders  are  here !    We're 
saved — saved ! 

{Exits  reeling  and  shouting.) 

(MCGREGOR  puts  the  candle  out  by  striking  the  flame  with 
his  open  palm  and  catches  MRS.  CLAYTON  just  as  she  faints, 
falling  backwards  into  his  arms. 

Curtain  falls  on  this  tableau  now  lit  with  red  fire  smoke 
and  resounding  with  rousing  British  cheers,  drums  and  bag 
pipes.) 

CURTAIN 


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LANTERN  LIGHT 
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CONTENTS 

The  Man  Upstairs Augustus   Thomas 

The   Mayor   and   the   Manicure George   Ade 

The    Red    Owl William    Gillette 

The  Rector Rachel  Crothers 

A  Flower  of  Yeddo Victor  Mapes 

Deceivers Wm.  C.  De  Mille 

The  Girl Edward  Peple 

Peace  Manoeuvres Richard  Harding  Davis 

Moonshine   A  rthur  Hopkins 

The  Dying  Wife Laurette  Taylor 

The  Little  Father  of  the 

Wilderness Austin  Strong  and  Lloyd  Osbourne 

The    Robbery Clare    Kummer 

Such  a  Charming  Young  Man Zoe  Akins 

Judge  Lynch /.  W.  Rogers,  Jr. 

The  Widow  of  Wasdale  Head Sir  Arthur  Pinero 

Dolly's  Little   Bills Henry  A  rthur  Jones 

The  Man  in  the  Bowler  Hat A.  A.  Milne 

Lonesome-Like Harold    Brighouse 

Hanging  and  Wiving /.  Hartley  Manners 

Op-o'-Me-Thumb Frederick  Fenn  and  Richard  Pryce 

Phipps Stanley    Houghton 

Spreading  the   News Lady   Gregory 

A  Minuet Louis  N.  Parker 

The  Ghost  of  Jerry  Bundler W.   W.  Jacobs 

Wealth  and  Wisdom Oliphant  Dow* 


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YOU  AND  I 

Comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Philip  Barry.  4  males,  3  females.  2  interiors. 
Modern  costumes.  Plays  2y2  hours. 

Maitland  White  is  prosperous,  still  young,  happily  married,  and  devoted  to  his 
wife  and  only  son.  But  he  is  not  content,  because  his  ambition  in  life  is  to  be 
a  painter.  Fate  has  driven  him  into  a  business  which  he  despises,  and  his  heart 
is  set  upon  his  boy  becoming  a  great  architect.  But  Roderick  falls  in  love  with 
Veronica,  and  announces  his  intention  of  abandoning  his  profession,  marrying  her, 
and  seeking  a  job  in  the  factory.  The  father  is  grieved,  and  his  wife  induces 
him  to  retire  from  business  and  forget  his  troubles  in  the  pursuit  of  art.  No 
sooner  said  than  done,  and  he  succeeds  in  producing  a  picture  which  delights 
him.  But  everything  goes  wrong.  His  investments  fail,  his  place  at  the  factory 
is  filled,  and  he  is  threatened  with  ruin.  To  add  to  his  perplexities,  Veronica 
breaks  her  engagement  with  Roderick  in  order  that  he  may  be  free  to  follow  his 
studies,  just  at  the  moment  when  there  is  no  money  to  pay  for  them.  At  this 
juncture  Mrs.  White  and  an  old  friend,  Geoffrey  Nichols,  arrange  a  ball,  at  which 
the  picture  shall  be  sold  at  auction.  She  invites  connoisseurs  and  announces 
that  $4,000  has  been  bid.  Maitland  is  delighted,  until  he  is  crushed  by  the 
discovery  that  the  purchaser  is  his  old  "boss,"  who  proposes  to  use  it  for  adver 
tising.  He  even  offers  Maitland  his  old  position  and  rich  remuneration  if  he 
will  dedicate  his  art  to  the  service  of  the  factory.  At  first  the  latter  spurns  the 
proposal,  but  his  pride  is  overcome  by  a  realization  of  his  own  limitations,  and 
he  sacrifices  inclination  to  parental  duty.  An  especially  attractive  play  for  high 
schools,  colleges,  and  Little  Theaters.  Price,  75  Cents. 


THE  YOUNGEST 

Comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Philip  Barry.  4  males,  5  females.  1  exterior. 
Modern  costumes.  Plays  2%  hours. 

The  success  of  "You  and  I,"  by  the  same  author,  was  recently  augmented  by 
this  brilliant  comedy,  now  published  for  the  first  time.  "The  Youngest"  is  an 
ingenious  variation  of  the  Cinderella  theme,  in  which  the  hero,  a  downtrodden 
son,  comes  into  contact  with  a  charming  busybody.  The  youngest  eventually 
learns  to  assert  himself,  and  turns  upon  his  oppressors  in  splendid  style.  A  very 
human  and  appealing  comedy  of  contemporary  American  life,  particularly  to  be 
recommended  for  production  by  high  schools.  Price,  75  Cents. 

(The  Above  Are  Subject  to   Royalty  When   Produced) 
SAMUEL  FRENCH,   25   West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 

New  and  Explicit  Descriptive  Catalogue  Mailed  Free  on  Request 


One  Act  Plays 
for  Stage  and  Study 

SECOND  SERIES 

Twenty-one    Contemporary   Plays,   never   before 

published  in  book  form,  by  American,  English, 

Irish,   French   and   Hungarian   Writers 

Preface  by  WALTER  PRICHARD  EATON 


CONTENTS 

The  Drums  of  Oude Austin  Strong 

Young  America Pearl  Franklin  and  Fred  Bollard 

The   Prairie  Doll Edward  Child*   Carpenter 

The  Passing  of  Chow-Chow Elmer  L.  Rice 

The  Dickey  Bird Harriet  Ford  and  Harvey  O'Higgins 

Meet  the   Missus Kenyan  Nicholson 

The  Same  Old  Thing Roi  Cooper  Megruv 

Red    Carnations Glenn    Hughes 

Saved /.    W.   Rogers,  Jr. 

The  Man  Who  Died  at  Twelve  O'Clock Paul  Green 

A  Question  of  Principle Martin  Flavin 

And  There  Was  Light Charles  O'Brien  Kennedy 

Among  Thieves William   Gillette 

The  Corsican  Lieutenant Robert   Housum, 

On   the    Racecourse Lady    Gregory 

The  Black  Bottle Seumas  O'Brien 

The  Knife Henry  A  rthur  Jones 

Claude Herman  Ould 

The    Idealist , OKphant    Down 

At    the    Telephone Andre    de    Lordo 

The    Host Ferenc    Molnar 


SAMUEL  FRENCH 

Incorporated  1898 

T.  R.  EDWARDS,  Managing  Director 

25  West  45th  St.,  New  York  City 
1  bound  volume.     Price  $3.15  Postpaid 


ni 


LIBRARY 
rersity    Salifornla 

^^•      Act  Plays 


Stage  and  Study 


FIRST  SERIES 

Twenty-five  Contemporary  Plays  by  Well-Known 

Dramatists,  American,  English,  and  Irish 

Preface  by  AUGUSTUS  THOMAS 

CONTENTS 

• 

The  Man  Upstairs Augustus   Thomas 

The  Mayor  and   the   Manicure George   Ade 

The   Red    Owl William    Gillette 

The  Rector Rachel  Crothers 

A  Flower  of  Yeddo Victor  Mapes 

Deceivers Wm.  C.  De  Mille 

The  Girl Edward  Peple 

Peace  Manoeuvres Richard  Harding  Davis 

Moonshine   A  rthur  Hopkins 

The  Dying  Wife Laurette  Taylor 

The  Little  Father  of  the 

Wilderness Austin  Strong  and  Lloyd  Osbourne 

The   Robbery Clare    Rummer 

Such  a  Charming  Young  Man Zoe  Akins 

Judge  Lynch /.  W.  Rogers,  Jr. 

The  Widow  of  Wasdale  Head Sir  Arthur  Pinero 

Dolly's   Little  Bills Henry  Arthur  Jones 

The  Man  in  the  Bowler  Hat A.  A.  Milne 

Lonesome-Like Harold    Brighouxe 

Hanging  and  Wiving /.  Hartley  Manners 

Op-o'-Me-Thumb Frederick  Fenn  and  Richard  Pryce 

Phipps Stanley    Houghton 

Spreading  the   News Lady    Gregory 

A  Minuet Louis  N.  Parker 

The  Ghost  of  Jerry  Bundler W.   W.  Jacobs 

Wealth  and  Wisdom Oliphant  Down 


SAMUEL  FRENCH 

Incorporated  1898 

T.  R.  EDWARDS,  Managing  Director 

25  West  45th  St.,  New  York  City 
1  bound  volume.     Price  $3.15  Postpaid 


FEB  1  3 


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DATE  DUE 


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